


Fictober 2019, Oct. 6th, “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: More of Fictober 2019!The only synopsis I can give of this is that I love the video for It’s A Hard Life, and I know Roger really hated that ruff. And then this happened!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Fictober 2019, Oct. 6th, “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

“That…is a ruff.” 

“Yes, I’m aware. Your point?” Freddie asked, and tried to hand the ruff over to Roger again. 

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“And why ever not? We’re all dressed up, you don’t get to be the exception,” Freddie said, gesturing to the eyes and strings and ties on his own outfit. 

“Okay, but…that? I’m going to look so stupid!” 

“I’m sorry, did you say you’ll look stupid?” John asked, swinging in from the other dressing area. “Because I have a fucking horse, as a part of mine.” 

“Are you dressed as a horse in a ruff?” Roger asked.

John shook his head. 

“Oh, so I’m still looking the stupidest then.” 

“Roger,” Freddie sighed. 

“Well, what’s Brian wearing? C’mon, tell me! Have we dressed him up as a decorative palm or something?” Roger scoffed

“I think I’m meant to be Death,” Brian replied as he walked into the room, pulling at the sleeves of his costume, a guitar-like instrument ending in a skull in one hand. 

“See, now that’s kind of cool, at the very least, even if he does still look very stupid.” 

“Thank you, Roger. You’re beautiful as ever yourself, until you open your mouth,” Brian said dryly. “Just put the ruff on and join the parade already.” 

“No, there’s got to be something else I can wear,” Roger protested, side-eyeing Freddie as he crept closer, ruff in hand. 

“There isn’t anything else, and you’re being ridiculous,” Freddie said. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

“Worse? How? Why, what are you-” Roger’s shouting turned to a wordless screech as Freddie wrestled him down to pull the ruff on, an expert already at having put a collar on many an uncooperative cat. 

John watched, a bemused smile on his face. “Think he’ll start biting next?” 

“Hopefully not. Don’t really want to have to call the medics back for this. What would we tell them?” Brian asked, wincing at the ongoing wrestling match. 

“That we had to put a fancy collar on a particularly fussy cat!” Freddie said triumphantly as he pulled himself up off of the floor. 

Roger remained there, glaring at all three of them, tugging at the ruff now around his neck. “Oh, stop with the smiling. I’m wearing it, alright?” 

“You are,” John smirked. “Think he’ll start rubbing his face across the carpet to try and get it off?” 

“Yuk it up, no, really, enjoy this moment,” Roger scoffed as he stood to pull on the rest of his outfit. 

“I don’t dare pet him, he’ll hiss at me,” Brian teased as he reached to gently pat the ruff. 

“I hate…everything about this,” Roger sighed as they started out towards the set, John pulling on the last of his costume as they went. 

“There. You owe me for this, Freddie,” John grumbled. 

They turned to look at him, and Roger nearly fell over with laughter, cackling loud enough it echoed. 

“That’s enough, stop it,” John muttered. 

“Y-you’re a glittery horse,” Roger was almost crying as he laughed. “Never mind me, you win, you look stupidest.” 

“I’m not a horse, I”m just holding…a glittery horse’s head,” John mumbled. 

“Bit metaphorical though, isn’t it? I’d presume it to mean you were a horse, or a unicorn or something,” Brian said, laughing at the glare John immediately sent his way. “Out of the way, the horse is about to kick me!” 

“Good lord, we’re a farmhouse now. A barn cat, a horse…what does that make us?” Freddie asked with a smile. 

“A bird of paradise and a vulture, that are late to set!” came the squawk of the director’s megaphone, far too loud for the small studio space. 

They all bit back giggles as they trotted on set, like mischievous admonished schoolboys. One day, they’d look back on the whole thing and laugh. 

Except for Roger, maybe.


End file.
